Straight Men Are Fun to Play With
by MesT
Summary: Dragon Age: Zevran and Alistair have an unexpected and steamy night in the Warden's tent. Dedicated to all those who, like me, were disappointment with the lack of gay romance possibility with Alistair! SLASH.


**A/N:** Okay so I was really disappointed to find out that there was no gay romance option with Alistair (after I had already created my MALE character and had started to become a little bit too interested in a certain Warden!!). This is a short and steamy (very graphic, mature readers only, please) man x man romance fic between Alistair and Zevran. Please don't read if you don't approve of this situation. Otherwise, enjoy! ;-)

------------------

**Straight Men Are Fun to Play With**

------------------

Zevran sat across the campfire patiently, willing himself to not openly smirk.

That's the second time this week he's caught Alistair silently watching him.

Growing up in a brothel, it was not uncommon for him to receive… interest… from both men and women. But was he perceiving some actual dirty thoughts creep into that innocent (or was it clueless?) man's head?

Zevran stood. He stretched.

This was going to be interesting.

He sauntered over to Alistair and nearly spread himself on the tree stump next to him. The Warden averted his gaze and stared with sudden interest into the fire.

Zevran loudly cleared his throat and began, "Sooo, Warden."

"What do you need?"

"I'd like to ask you a question."

"Ask away."

Zevran had anticipated that entire short dialogue. Always so curt. Formal.

Hmm. How to open up a Warden?

"I've noticed you've been watching me."

"I – what?"

Zevran bit his bottom lip. A stutter from the other is the first step, and smiling right now would ruin his plans.

"You're not as subtle as you might hope you are, Warden." The elf lowered his register, for extra effect. "I also couldn't help but notice a certain… sparkle… in your _sultry_ gaze…"

After a brief and what looked to be an utterly petrified pause, Alistair replied a little too loudly, "I – I don't know what you're talking about. I was doing no such thing, and I would kindly ask you to attempt to purge these ideas from that questionable mind of yours…. Thank you."

Zevran smiled now, flashing two rows of perfect teeth. He waited for the man to finish his rant.

"And anyway!" continued he, "Even if I was staring – I mean _looking_, looking! – at you – er, in your _direction _– it was only to keep an eye on you to make sure you weren't planning on assassinating one of us, you… assassinator!... Assassin!"

Momentarily satisfied with himself, Alistair calmed.

After a long minute Zevran stood, looming over the man who noticeably gulped at the proximity. The elf stared down at his upturned face. Keeping eye contact, and voice low, it was now time to plant the seed.

"Warden." He rolled the "r" in the way he knew others found attractive. "Desire for my body, or desire to monitor me for safety reasons, both I can live with. But if I were ever so lucky as to experience the former, from you, know this: I would return those feelings in a heartbeat. If you would ever… want me… I am yours."

He turned on his heel and walked away, disappearing into the darkness of their camp. What he wouldn't give to see the expression of horror and disbelief that must have disfigured the man's face.

Oh, but he was good. Very good.

------------------

Hours later, the camp silent, each grabbing a handful of hours of precious sleep before sunrise, Zevran waited patiently in his tent for the right moment.

Oh, but straight men were fun to play with.

Finally the elf stepped out of his tent and checked the night sky. It would be approximately four more hours until dawn, and if he had indeed timed this correctly, he would shortly be catching a certain Warden in a vulnerable position inside a certain tent.

Zevran crept silently to the tent two across from his own. Using his incredible stealth, he parted the opening flap and stepped through, completely unnoticed.

Inside the small space he found a handful of scattered lit candles, lush blankets covering the hard ground, and on top of them a naked man of such physical perfection that it took even the experienced rogue's breathe away.

And just as Zevran had anticipated, the man was stroking himself, lips slightly parted, eyes closed in pleasure.

Zevran stepped softly forward and knelt beside the warrior. He placed a fingertip against a full bottom lip.

Alistair's eyes shot open as he sat up in alarm, instinctively moving back against a wall of the tent.

"What – "

"Shhh." Voice soft and soothing, Zevran reached slender fingers forward. The man flinched. "Alistair. It's alright."

Alistair stared, eyes wide. "How could it be alright?" he whispered, almost choking on the words. "This isn't supposed to happen. I…"

Zevran reached further and managed to place his palm gently against the man's face, flushed hot from embarrassment, or, hopefully, something else.

"I _promise_ you, my friend. There is nothing to be afraid of." He leaned forward and whispered into his ear, "I won't hurt you." He let his lips linger there, risking a soft kiss to the lobe.

Within moments he could feel Alistair's face resting in the crook of his neck, breathing in the scent there. Strong yet impossibly gentle arms tentatively encircled the elf.

To say that this was going according to plan would be an understatement. Even Zevran was surprised at how quickly Alistair began to let him in to this forbidden territory. He promised himself that he would ponder the reasons for this, _later._

"Lie down," Zevran commanded. The warrior obeyed, eyes riveted on the elf.

Zevran placed cool fingertips on either side of the man's jaw and lightly ran them down his neck, collar bones, chest, stomach, and down the inner part of his thighs, careful not to brush his erection. Not yet.

The action elicited a delightful gasp from the naked figure, followed by a strangely delicate moan that seemed to magically increase the tightness of the assassin's pants.

Zevran moved to straddle Alistair's middle, careful to keep his weight light. "Undress me."

Alistair reached timid hands toward the other's light silk shirt and began to unbutton it.

So the Warden was good at following orders. Zevran mentally filed away that information.

"Zevran," Alistair said, fingers still gripping the shirt that he had already finished unbuttoning. "I've… never done this before."

Zevran chuckled. "That much I guessed." He traced sensual circles around the man's nipples to ensure his words wouldn't discourage. He was pleased to see them become erect at his touch.

"No, I mean… not at all. Ever. Not with a woman, not with anyone."

Zevran halted his actions. "What??" A blush crept across the man's cheeks, and the elf had to smile. "My dear Alistair, do you mean to tell me that you are… a _virgin_?"

Alistair's hands crossed across his chest. "Look, I don't feel like getting into details right now but yes, yes I am."

Zevran couldn't decide if he wanted to laugh or lick his lips in delight. He settled for shrugging off his shirt and stretching out next to the man. Alistair raised himself on one elbow to look at him.

"Take off my pants," Zevran prompted.

Alistair silently undid the belt and buckle, and in no time the elf was naked beside him.

The man waited, leaning over him, their chests lightly touching. Zevran tried not to breathe too deeply. Despite himself, he was afraid the warrior's scent might intoxicate him, and he needed all his concentration right now to make the man feel at ease.

"I'll make this simple," the elf murmured. "Do what I do." Alistair cocked his head to the side in puzzlement, eyes sparkling and innocent. Oh Maker, thought Zevran.

The rogue lifted a hand and gently threaded his fingers through thick brown hair. Then he stopped. And waited.

After a momentary pause, Alistair did the same to him. Good, he's caught on to the game.

Zevran placed one digit against the man's mouth. Without needing to be prompted Alistair wrapped his lips around the long finger, enveloping it in that enticingly soft, hot orifice.

For his own sake Zevran didn't allow his finger to linger there long. Maintaining control was becoming quite difficult indeed. He used the wet finger to trace a nipple, eliciting a delicious gasp from the man above him.

Now it was Alistair's turn. As the other busied himself reproducing those same actions, Zevran gently but firmly grasped the warrior's hard length in one hand.

Alistair's face contorted and he cried out. "Wait," he rasped. Zevran remained motionless, hand remaining where it was, waiting for the man to regain his control.

After a few shaky breaths, Alistair opened his eyes once more and fixed such a gaze on Zevran that could put an end to even the most seasoned lovers. Gone was the innocence, and replaced with something decidedly more… animalistic. Zevran found himself mesmerized by the sudden shine in those deep brown eyes. He found he couldn't remember… Who was in charge here?

"Oh!" the assassin cried out against a pair of hot, wet lips that suddenly assaulted his own. He could smell the intoxicating breath mingling with his own, taste the sweet lips moving hungrily against his, feel the soft tongue insisting on entry.

Zevran opened his mouth eagerly, melting into the sensations. They kissed with fervor, and a strength that only men could create with one another. Hands were everywhere, caressing, gripping, bodies were pressing against each other, wanting to be impossibly closer.

Zevran was now lost, and he could do nothing to stop it. He didn't want to. His head was spinning, dizzy from the sensations.

Before he knew what was happening, deft hands had flipped his light frame over so that he was now kneeling on all fours, Alistair's larger form pressing up against him from behind.

The Warden gripped Zevran's already aching member in one hand and began to massage him, up, and down. Up, and down. It felt excruciatingly good.

"Ahh," Zevran murmured. "Where did you learn to do this? What _did _you get up to in that Cha—oohhh—Chantry?"

"I told you," Alistair breathed hotly into the side of his face. "I've never done this before." He wrapped moist lips around the top of a pointy ear and sucked.

Normally at this point Zevran would have unleashed a string of profanities in an attempt to convey his distaste for what appeared to be blatant lies, but suddenly Alistair began making small, experimental thrusts with his hips, and Zevran lost all train of thought for the second time that night.

"Wait," Zevran breathed. He skillfully adjusted his position until he could feel the tip of Alistair's dripping length against his entrance. "Okay. Ready when you ar—ahhhh…"

The Warden thrust without warning, entering him half-way, giving Zevran little time to adjust to his girth before pulling out and thrusting back in, this time all the way to the base.

"Damn you, human," Zevran growled, gritting his teeth as pain slowly transformed into pleasure.

Alistair continued his movements, in, out, in out, at a firm but steady pace. He pumped Zevran's member in time with his thrusts.

Zevran couldn't take it. The soft gasps and moans, the smacking sound of two bodies hitting against each other, the pressure building in the pit of his stomach, the novelty of it all, and Alistair's unexpected initiative, he knew neither of them would last. It would be over as soon as it started, and this kind of uncontrolled passion is certainly not what the elf had had in mind when he first confronted the man at the campfire.

Now Alistair's thrusts were becoming erratic, his breaths hoarser. He sped up the hand that was working the rogue's member, and when he called out his name, Zevran uttered a final guttural groan and came into the large hand, spilling onto the blankets beneath him, spasms shaking his frame as the hand continued to pump him relentlessly throughout his orgasm.

A series of breathless gasps and a few more desperate thrusts later, Zevran felt Alistair come inside him, the warm liquid filling him to the brim and more, the man's body collapsing on top of him.

At some point, ages later, Zevran managed to turn onto his back and wrap slender arms and legs around Alistair's trembling frame.

The Warden let out a single sob into the other's blond locks. Zevran wanted to ask if he was alright, but couldn't find the words.

Two intertwined bodies gradually drifted to sleep.

One hour before dawn, Zevran woke and deftly disentangled himself from the sleeping hero, who, at that moment, looked like the Maker incarnate.

The assassin returned to his tent and waited for the rest of his companions to rise.

Damn it all. What now?


End file.
